This is a Time for Maturity

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img_6289This is a time for maturity. 

We need Mothers. We need women who grow into maturity and take us under their wing and remind us to, Breathe. We need women who remind us: Stop. Rest. Make a cup of tea. Take time. Press in. Keep going. Grow up. You’ve got this.

Now go, mother your world.

We need women who tuck us in with their words and cover us with their prayers and fold us under their wings. Women who have become wise … not just with age, but with faithfulness and perseverance and a hunger for Goodness.

We need women whose lives have become large—not on the outside, necessarily, but definitely on the inside.

We need Mothers who remind us, It will be ok. We have work to do, but it will be ok. We need women who will tell us ancient stories and encourage us to press in to the long roads that bend towards justice.

We need to do this for each other. We need to mother each other and sister each other when the day is long. We need to sit together and walk together and do the hard work of growing up. We need to bless each other into maturity. It’s time.

This is a time for maturity.

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The image is a photograph I took of a painting by Palestinian Artist Nail Ananias, displayed in the beautiful Taybeh Golden Hotel. 

PS: If you struggle with feeling like you have never been blessed into womanhood or maturity, please send me message. It’s time.

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  • http://michelemorin.wordpress.com Michele Morin

    “Bless each other into maturity.”
    Of course, it’s been tried other ways — shaming, nagging, comparing.
    While I’m elbow deep in pie crust today, Idelette, I’m going to be mulling over the truth of these words. I’m challenged to explore the impact women can have upon other women simply by doing what we do best.

  • Sandy Hay

    These words speak LOUDLY to me. When I was in college I had a “mother” I visited almost every Sunday afternoon. Yes, she made me tea (and her daughters who joined us at her big kitchen table :) My own other was jealous of this. At exactly 3pm she would call me (this was WAY before cell phones) . We all looked at each other and in unison said, “Clara” and giggled. I know then how critical these weekly visits were. And I vowed to myself (this was a few years before God) that I would have a home where women could sit at my table. And I do.